Message-ID: <223303Z03061995@anon.penet.fi>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: an272013@anon.penet.fi
X-Anonymously-To: alt.sex.stories
Organization: Anonymous forwarding service
Reply-To: an272013@anon.penet.fi
Date: Sat, 3 Jun 1995 22:24:52 UTC
Subject: New Story: Tommy (pedo)
Lines: 89
My cabin is deep in the woods, in the middle of the 1,000 acres I own in
northern Michigan near Cadillac. It is as rustic as those cabins of the
pioneers 150 years ago. I'm rich. I could afford a mansion, but I like my
cabin. It reminds me of my youth, when I would come to my father's cabin
in Wisconsin. My brothers, my father and I would fish and hunt and exalt
in being free in the wild. When I found myself, after so many years of
constant work, with more money than I could ever spend, I bought this
property and built this simple cabin. My sons are grown; successful
professionals with their own families. My wife died five years ago. I
relish the solitude of my cabin in the forest. In the suburbs north of
Detroit I have, in fact, a mansion. But I am happiest here in the woods.
On a late Spring day, after having surveyed the developing dogwoods with my
dog Toby, I returned to the cabin, eagerly looking forward to a lunch of
Cambell's pork and beans and a glass of Stolichnaia. When I entered, I
immediately saw another person in the small, single room of the cabin. A
small figure, dirty and ragged. It was a boy, between twelve and perhaps
fourteen years of age. He cowered in a corner, looking up at me. Toby
snarled menacingly. The boy cringed and wimpered. I calmed Toby and
pulled the boy to his feet. He stank! I knew better than to shout at him.
We had a serious problem here. I told him that if he would go outside and
bathe at the wash basin at the side of the house, I would fix lunch for
him. I admonished him to get the stink off of him. Toby accompanied him
outside, sniffing. As I fixed the pork and beans, another can added for
the company, I glanced out the window and saw the boy naked, washing
himself. I was pleased that he was at least intelligent enough to
understand my first concern. By the time he reentered the cabin, he and
Toby were life long friends. His clothes smelled, but he was clean. We
would have to wash his clothes. We ate in silence and I sipped my vodka.
When I asked how he had come to be in my cabin, it was as if I had pushed a
button. He spewed out his tale of woe and would not stop. He had run away
from a boy's home, where he had been placed after a series of foster homes.
He was an orphan. He had been too unruly in foster care, and so he was
placed, as it were, in a child's prison without bars. He did not fit in and
the other boys taunted and persecuted him. The nine to five employees
could not have cared less, however much he pleaded. He ran away. He was
thirteen. His name is Tommy. He first hitch-hiked north. But when a man,
who had given him a ride, began to fondle his thigh and seemed to be
menacing, he ceased asking others for rides and walked this far, over one
hundred miles. After lunch I gave him a long, plaid wool shirt and told
him to take his clothes down to the nearby stream and wash them, because
they smelled so bad. To my surprise he disrobed in front of me, put on the
shirt and took his clothes in a bundle down to the stream, a bar of soap in
his hand. I did not notice his naked body; I was disinterested. He
returned and hung his wet clothes on tree limbs to dry in the afternoon
sun.
He came over and stood before me, as if he were awaiting further
instructions. He was a cute kid, especially in that shirt, which hung down
only to his upper thighs. We talked, sitting on a bench near the cabin
door. He was obviously intelligent. He did not speak kid shit, but full
sentences, usually grammatically. Toby sniffed under his shirt. The boy
and the dog played together the rest of the afternoon and into the evening,
when his clothes were finally dry. The world darkened and it became time
for bed. The cabin had just one bed, so we shared it.
The bed was a bit tight for two persons, but we adjusted and soon we fell
asleep. In the middle of the night I half awoke; the boy's arm was around
me, his body pressed against mine. I slept again. In the morning Tommy
jumped out of bed, full of life. I lay abed and watched him play with
Toby. He was clad just in his shorts. He was gorgeous, and my penis began
to rise. I had a strange feeling, looking at his boyish beauty. I
wondered why I felt this way, sexually attracted to another male. Tommy,
seeing that I was awake, jumped onto the bed and rough housed with me. I
was distracted by my feelings for him, although I entered into the play, in
the course of which I found my hands on his soft body. I was troubled.
Tommy did not make things easier, when he snuggled me and kissed me on the
lips. It was an innocent child's kiss. Almost unthinking, I fondled his
chest and then his soft thighs; my cock was engorged. The more I touched
him, the more deeply he kissed me. I was soon kissing his body and he was
sighing. My mouth surveyed him from forehead to toes, and back up the
insides of his legs. He squirmed in pleasure. I was in quite a state,
impassioned. I tore down his shorts and plunged his slender cock into my
mouth and sucked. He soon came and squirted streams of his semen into my
mouth. I did not know what to do with it. I spit it into my hand, used it
to lubricate my raging cock, and thigh fucked him to an explosive orgasm.
As I lay on the bed, spent, confused and appalled at what I had just done,
Tommy carressed my body and kissed me deeply. He stroked my troubled head
and murmured into my ear. I came to love this boy, although we never had
sex again, even remotely. I sponsored him through school, university and
graduate school. He now has his own family, and I am always welcome at his
table.
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